We Wish You a Wammy Christmas
by oh.holy.martel
Summary: Raito is the assistant manager of Wammy's, and is faced with the daunting task of handling the Christmas rush trainees. LxRaito. BxA. Foul language on the part of Mello, Raito's thoughts and possibly Matt. MelloxNear. Possible MattxMello. Shonen-ai CRACK!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the new fic I forgot to summarize. Sorry, I got the idea after I posted =(.The first chapter's so short because I just snuck on the computer again and wanted to get it up. So enjoy and spread the misanthropic DN Christmas cheer! (Spoilers for real names of any DN characters.)**

**Disclaimer: (Guy wearing fake mustache and glasses looks up in nearly deserted subway station, rearranges paper and scoots a little closer to N, who is watching for the train)**

**Shifty Guy: "Hey. Wanna own Death Note? I can get you a good deal …"**

**N (Scoots a bit away): "NO. I want the train to get here so I can get on and get home and go write fanfic and get away from you. You don't own Death Note, anyway."**

**Shifty Guy (Leans a little closer): "No, but a friend of mine is currently in possession of the authors and they just cracked from the torture, so he should own the rights shortly. So c'mon, whadda you say?" **

**Ryuk (Flying overhead, cackling maniacally): "Hyuk, hyuk! It doesn't look like this guy's gonna say the disclaimer! C'mon, N, Light's on the train! Why don't you let him kill this trash?"**

**N (Looking thoughtful, speaks so only Ryuk can hear her as train screeches into the subway station): "You know, Ryuk, that's actually a good idea. Go tell Light about it, please. I'll get you an apple once we get home."**

**Ryuk: "Sure thing! And you better not try to stiff me with Gala this time! And that Tartarus trick was just plain mean, too! I'm a Japanese death god, how would I be expected to know Greek myths?" (Flies away, guy shivers for a second as the backlash from Ryuk's wings catches him)**

**Shifty Guy: "So? How about it?"**

**N (checks watch; 30 seconds, 31, 32, just how many would it take for Ryuk to get there and explain the situation anyway, why couldn't the idiot just killed the guy himself): "Hmm … I don't know. So tempting, but, you know, I just **_**couldn't**_** …" (Stalling, because she just realized that without Ryuk here to kill people she just realized she's pretty much defenseless) **

**Shifty Guy: "C'mon, you know you want it … I'll even throw in a little sweetener." (Leans forward in what is supposed to be a sexy manner but really just looks like a freaking rapist)**

**N (checks watch again: 1 minute and 10 seconds, really, when did Light write it down? Never trust a shinigami …): "Actually …"**

**Shifty Guy: "Stop being such a tea – ugh … urghle … augh …" (collapses, writhing, on bench. Ryuk comes flying back as N smiles in satisfaction)**

**N (Smiling excitedly, stands up to get on the opening door of train): "Took you long enough, Ryuk. Trying to get me molested?"**

**Light (Puts notebook away from inside train and grins in most Kira-like manner possible): "And there you have it. No one's owning Death Note but the author's on Kira's watch!" (Leans back head and cackles maniacally, sound bouncing off the walls of the train as everyone turns to stare and collectively sweatdrop)**

**Random Person (Sigh): "Why is it always the hot ones that are insane …"**

**Now that I've made you read a page-and-a-half disclaimer (cough, cough)have an actual look at the **_**story!**_

--

Raito, college student and part-time assistant manager of Wammy's, the world-famous chain department store, or at least one of their locations in the Kanto region of Japan closest to his house, checked his watch and sighed. It was his luck as newbie to get stuck training to rush trainees for the Christmas season, and they were, every single one of them, late. And since their salaries were the minimum wage he couldn't make a pay dock about it. Or fire them, understandably, because the store was already desperate. Woe was him.

"My apologies, sir," a small boy wearing the manager's smock said as he peeked around the corner, Raito's first response being _No way he can't be old enough to be hired_. "I'm afraid I was held up at home." Code for _my mother refused to let me go without promising to look at both sides of the street and call her on my break. _Raito decided that he'd probably make a good elf, as that seemed to be all the small, slight person would be able to do.

"I'm sorry that I'm la – augh!" A blonde sprinted around the corner, smock in hand, and tripped over the small boy, sending them both sprawling and jumping up to exclaim, "What the _fuck?"_

Raito sighed again, saying patiently, "Please refrain from cursing while on duty. The two of you should try to refrain from being late next time; but today I will pardon you for being late."

"Ha!" the blonde said, smock forgotten as he propped his hands defiantly on decidedly feminine hips over his wrinkled all-black clothing. "You know that it's way too late into the Christmas rush season to fire us. After all, you have pipsqueak here. That must mean you're pretty damn desperate."

_Only three more weeks of torture,_ Raito chanted in his head as he forced on a smile and politely reminded, "That's right, but please refrain from cursing. I suppose, since none of the other employees are here, I will begin instruc –"

"Sorry I'm late, dude," a redhead said, skidding into the room and looking slightly winded, "but I got up late and just –"

"MAIL, you ASSHOLE!" The blonde exclaimed, picking up his smock and flinging it at him while the pale one continued to watch unnoticed from his place on the floor. "You didn't tell me you got a job here, too! I've been complaining about it all WEEK and you never said!"

"You never asked, dude," this Maild said, shrugging, already dressed in his smock as he shoved the blonde's back at him. "So, Mills, what did I miss? Where are all the other people, anyway?"

It's Mihael, asshole," the newly named Mihael said, jerking his thumb about the room, "and all you missed is that the boss is a namby-pamby prick and they approve child labor here. You actually stood to leave your videogames?"

"What can I say, dude?" Mail shrugged. "I'm broke. I need Christmas presents for my 'rents and my sis, and the new version of Carnage XXX just came out. So here I am. What about you? Run out of chocolate?"

"Look," Raito interrupted, feeling decidedly more frazzled then when they had just been late, "can we get to the training? You can still have your pay docked or breaks taken away, and Wammy's has a strict no-cursing policy. Now, to start with the proper manner to greet a customer when they enter Wammy's –"

"I apologize for my lateness, Raito-san," a voice said smoothly as a dark-haired, slouching newcomer wearing the same tell-tale smock shuffled across the carpet in worn sneakers and no socks – _NO socks? Is he serious? Don't any of these people realize this is a _job? Raito's business-sense fumed. "This is where the training is to take place, correct? Are we the only employees?"

Raito quickly checked his Official Assistant Manager Clipboard List of New Employees, scanning down the list of names. "Nate … Mihael … Mail … L … hm. It seems we're still waiting for two more, Adrian and Beyond."

"B?" The black-haired man who could either be Nate or L paled slightly.

"Yes, B," a voice from the doorway called, its black-haired owner – _what the hell, two of them? _– smirking evilly as he and his blondie Goth boyfriend waltzed in, no evidence of a smock in sight. "Nice of you all to wait for us. Surprised, L? Didn't think I could get a job as good as yours?"

"I would hardly doubt your capabilities, B," L said smoothly, recovering himself, as he gestured to B's similar apparel. "Though being ten minutes late and sans smock is hardly the most auspicious start. Are you so sure you can keep it?"

"Keep it?" B drew himself up, eyes glittering malignantly. "I'll do more than keep it. I'll be the best employee here! And when you're fired …" He drew a finger across his pale throat. "You'll be the Backup."

"_Well,"_ Raito said, trying desperately to bring back some order, "now that everyone has _finally_ arrived, I believe it's time for the training. Now, most ofyou will be working in stock …"

Six pairs of eyes stared at him unblinkingly.

_And I thought thirteen was the unlucky number … _Raito groaned internally as he rambled on about how procedure worked here, procedure this particular group of individuals were likely to trample, come back with a carving knife or a cleaver and dice up, shred into bits with either a cheese or meat grinder, set on fire and then cackle maniacally as they danced about the remains. Though, in L's, Nate's, or A's case, perhaps just stare moodily into the flames.

_This is _**so**_ not worth the pay raise._

**--**

**Hope you enjoyed. Crack chapters next time, if you like. Review! Spread the DN Christmas cheer!**

**(And expect my next two fics up some time too.)**

**-N**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here it is. Can you believe that M's the only one who's reviewed the fourth chapter of the Sugarfilled Wars? I haven't even started writing the fifth chapter yet, and no one reviewed the second chapter of A Space except for the marvelous ZR, who Ryuk thanks for the apple. So review.**

**Disclaimer: (Ryuk whines)**

**Ryuk: "C'mon, N, give me an apple! The Death Note authors were less stingy than this!"**

**N (Looks annoyed): "That's because they actually had a use for you, Ryuk. Say the disclaimer and I'll give you this one."**

**Ryuk: "N doesn't own Death Note!" (Swoops down and grabs apple, chomps on it and cackles maniacally)**

**There you have it. Read on at your sides' peril.**

--

Raito breathed a breath of relief as he hurried into work, nearly late after losing track of the time while helping Sayu with her math homework – _she was so dense-acting today that it was almost as if she was trying to stall me, make me late _– thanking the Gods that he had survived tutorial week and now only needed to marginally supervise before he could go back to his _old _job sense of peace, his old life – as much as was possible with them still there. Just the final review, which he prayed they'd pass, and then …

He walked into the room, smoothing back his hair and expecting it to be empty because after his first day's admonishments everyone but Mihael and Mail had made a point of being there _exactly _on time, and he was still a clear five minutes early due to a most _unattractive_ bout of hurrying and a shortcut through the park.

It wasn't.

The eyes of B, Nate, A, and L stared at him, a stalemate occurring for a moment as Raito's own terrified eyes widened almost to their level and the only sound was the soft _swish, swish, swish _of the tiny turning of a lock of Nate's hair around his finger, which B looked briefly annoyed about and A looked eternally annoyed about, among other things.

It might have gone on forever. They might have been standing there, frozen, until the end of time or, heaven forbid, Raito's superior's check-up, if fate hadn't intervened n the form of two teenage boys with attitudes and jobs to keep.

Mihael, careening into the room in his usual way, took a deep breath and yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING, STARING LIKE THAT?!?!?!"

"Bet they know voodoo," Mail muttered smugly, sheathing his gaming device and donning the smock with a little snort of disapproval, tossing one to Mihael and saying, "First day of real work, Mills. You up for it?"

"Duh," Mihael muttered, "I'm ready for fucking anything. And I'll do it better than stupid little _Nate_."

"No cursing, Mihael," Raito said wearily, figuring it was time to interject and use the precious little bit of authority he still possessed these days, "And you all have an assessment before I decide where to assign you. Everyone's here, so we'll start. If anyone talks without permission, they're automatically demoted to stock in the back. Understood?"

Everyone nodded. "Damn straight," Mihael muttered.

"No cursing, Mihael. Alright, then. First question: what does one say when greeting a customer at the door? Hmm … Nate?"

"Welcome to Wammy's, sir or ma'am, we wish you a pleasant experience and that you find what you're looking for," Nate recited quietly.

"Yes. Let's see … Mail! Put that away! How do you stack boxes for the F3 arrangement?"

"In the convex pyramid pattern, Light-Bright sir," Mail muttered, reluctantly resheathing his gaming console.

Mihael chose the time to comment, "Yeah, F3 – probably stands for fucking threesome, pyramid style. Mail snickered at the comment, and even L and B offered lopsided grins that stopped the second they looked at each other – B's got wider, causing A to sulk. Nate merely widened his eyes in a show of childish innocence.

"Ahem," Raito coughed, deciding that the sooner he got Mihael and his friend safely separated and preferably confined to stock the better it would be for his already tenuous authority and possibly sanity, "Mihael, since you're so eager to speak, why don't you tell me how to respond when a customer asks you for assistance?"

"Politely direct them to whatever stupid shit they missed in Aisle 4 and hover around until they pat you on the head like a dog and say you can go out and play again," Mihael answered promptly, leading to another bout of snickers from his workmates and a prompt demotion to working under his stalker Mikami in the shadowy kingdom of reject stock, sans Mail and an appreciative audience, which wasn't any less than he deserved in Raito's rapidly worsening opinion. He had a sore spot for his authority being trifled with, especially by pseudo-Goths with girly hair that wore rosaries and had every word out of their mouth a jibe or expletive of some sort, most likely both.

"I'll consider your frankness when deciding where to place you. Next question …"

And so on it went, every minute aspect of the training it had seemed no one listened to regurgitated in a bored-sounding tone from whichever employee he dared to call on – B and L in competition, A _actually_ answering, Nate almost blinding in his studious, quiet cuteness, and Mail and Mihael amusing everyone but A, Nate, and Raito himself. He tried everything in the book, but they knew it all – so, really, the placement choices were up entirely to his discrimination. And, really, despite the abject humiliation of the whole process, he wouldn't have it any other way. Raito got to show them, now, exactly what benefits they'd been reaping.

He didn't bother holding back the maniacal, long-past-Insanity-and-into-the-land-of-sweet-Revenge smile that blossomed over his face at the thought, though he normally would. He had a feeling that nothing he could do would surpass the collective weirdosity already rampant in the room.

"It seems you've all passed the test, so you may be worth your paychecks yet. First-day assignments are as follows, to be enacted after our half-hour break before the store opens … Mihael and Mail." L wondered idly how much money he would win if he entered a picture of Raito's current face in a jack-o-lantern contest. Mail had the grace to look perturbed. "Mihael, you're to be working in stock under Mikami, Section B. Mail, you'll be on standby assistance when the store opens, but until then report for specialized training by Lidner in Customer Service. Nate, you're greeting. Adrian, cashier, register 2. Roger will instruct you further. L and B … external stockboys. You run messages, make displays and restock, help customers and generally make yourselves comfortable. For the first day I'll be watching to see how all of you do instead of my regular work, so be sure to do your best. Dismissed for your half-hour break."

B cracked his knuckles, testing out a maniacal laugh. "You're going down, L. _Down._ It's very considerate of our superior here to give us the same jobs and provide such a fair plane for opportunity." A pouted at that.

Raito cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Had that really been such a good idea? He needed his coffee. Spending time in the company of psychopaths was not how he wished to spend his break. "Dismissed, _everyone. _Break's just been cut down to fifteen minutes. After that, report to your stations for training."

"Certainly," B murmured, scuttling up to him crablike, smiling in a most decidedly unpleasant manner. "I can't wait for L's humiliation and ultimate failure to begin. Come on, A. Time to depart." He gestured to his sulky Goth princess and swept from the room.

"I believe I shall take my leave as well," L said, nodding, followed nervously by Nate as Mail and Mihael got out of there, already complaining and cursing as Mail got out his console and attacked it furiously to make up for lost time.

Raito sighed, slumping. He needed coffee. He couldn't deal with these people anymore. At least … at least Misa was out of town, on her Christmas tour. At least Mikami was chained safely down in stock after last month's incident.

Little did he know. But hey, the gods feel that someone as beautiful as Raito shouldn't have predestination or they would be driven mad … but that never stopped them from exploiting that to have their own fun.

--

"B," A sulkily pouted as he sat on B's still besmocked lap, pushing away the kiss B tried to plant on him, "you're always so into L these days. I know you dated once – and I know for a fact that _he _dumped _you_. Be honest now. Do you want him more than you want me?"

"I'd never take him back, A," B said reassuringly, spiky black hair brushing against A's pale cheek as he leaned in for that kiss. "He's only competition. Nothing more."

"If you deserted me for him I'd kill myself," A mumbled, leaning into him. B had to hold back a snicker at that.

--

Mail and Mihael might have been content for eternity, or at least all of their break's fifteen minutes, just sitting behind the hot chocolate machine and playing games and talking, but then Mihael (must be all that hot chocolate) had to go to the bathroom. He got up, received a barely sentient nod from Mail, and was halfway through the Christmas paraphernalia aisle when he saw that one kid, Nate, about to come down. Stupid little bugger.

Mihael smiled frighteningly as he stepped closer, preparing to lunge at the trembling kid once they met in the center of the aisle. He was right by the kid and then …

"RAITO! MISA MISA'S COME BACK EARLY TO VISIT YOU, RAITO! WHERE IS MISA'S RAITO? SHE WANTS TO TELL HIM ALL ABOUT HER TRIP!"

Nate squeaked in fright and jumped much nearer to Mihael, a bit nearer than he let even Matt come. He was about to shove him into the shelf, consequences be damned, and curse, but a polite cough met his attention. He looked very slowly down the aisle to see B, the cougher, with A hanging on his arm, smirking. "Before moving anywhere, I'd suggest you look up."

Mihael and Nate's gazes traveled slowly upward to the decorated ceiling, the fateful Christmas decoration in residence being … gulp … mistletoe. Nate had scarcely reached that conclusion before Mihael was protesting, loudly and vehemently and probably with enough force to convince anyone less freakish and confident than B to forget they ever saw.

"There is no fucking way I'm kissing the little freak! I'm not sure it's even legal! You're going to turn around right now, and I'm going to kick him and pretend it's you!"

"That's a naughty boy, Mills," Mail called offhandedly from the other end of the aisle, looking up briefly from his infernal DS while standing next to that other freak L, whose unblinking stare was quite possibly a full .5 up on the creep-out factor than B's. Oh shit … there really was no way out of this now …

Mihael took a deep breath, bending down a bit to the further shrinking Nate. "Look, let's make this quick. Any specifications for you freakish gay voyeurs?" He added, managing to whip his head around and pierce the gazes of both sides of the aisle at once, a not-to-be-scoffed-at feat.

B's smirk only widened. "One could suppose that you and Nate look so much like girls that this could very well be another type of explicit porn altogether, Mihael. Any rules you want to throw out, L? Before I make them better?"

"The kiss must last for a duration of three seconds, timed by myself and B," L droned out on cue, causing everyone to light up and turn to him. "It must be on the lips, there must be tongue, and Mihael must hold Nate during the duration beneath the mistletoe. Anything you wish to add, B?"

"Actually …" B shook his head, eyes glittering crazily. "No. Let the countdown begin."

Mihael grabbed the white fabric of Nate's shirt reluctantly (he was wearing jeans with it in a semblance of normality for his job) and looked at the still-silent, unaffected-looking white-haired boy, grimacing in distaste. God, he felt like such a fucking pedophile kissing this … Mihael shook off the thought and hissed, "If you screw this up for me or tell _anyone_ I will kill you, hunting your soul down in the afterlife unreservedly, and drag you down to Hell with me and into Dante's seventh circle where I will abandon you to eternal, endless pain."

Nate's only answer was a tiny, somewhat terrified squeak before Mihael's lips were on his, very strange and demanding, possibly hurting … but not like other things had before. He bit back a horrified gasp as Mihael's tongue actually made it into his mouth and he realized that this was his first kiss – and, oh God, it was with a _guy_ – who _hated_ him –

"Time over," L and B announced almost simultaneously, B just a second later and pissed about it, though not enough to spoil the amusement he derived from seeing the two kiss. B cackled.

Even A managed a tiny smirk. Mail broke out into helpless snickers, pointing to his gaming console that wasn't really a gaming console but a modified camera and completely different from the one he had had earlier, Mihael could now see, and crowing, "Wow, Mills, I imagine that the girls at school won't be too happy when they see irrevocable proof of your gayness! Closet fanboys rejoice … Mihael Keehl will stop tearing up the closet and wreak his havoc in the open!"

"I'm going to kill you, Mail," Mihael snarled, lunging for him and running down the aisle while Mail, with the ease of long practice, beat a hasty retreat and held the camera out in front of him, snickering maniacally as he pressed a few buttons – apparently it also did email, the camera – and sending the photograph to probably the more social half of the entire school, which, sadly, Nate remembered that he attended as well. Though, if he wasn't beaten for supposedly being gay and/or being Mihael's lover, he may gain some tiny bit of status by association … but that was bad. That meant … popularity. And Nate River could barely deal with high school when he was a nobody.

Just then Raito's voice, scratchily and somewhat strained sounding, came over the intercom. "Break's over, new employees. Please report to your new stations for pre-opening training."

And then all the unfortunates in the still mostly deserted store were treated to a high-pitched giggle that blasted over the intercom and wracked everyone's ears, followed by the screech, "RAITO'S VOICE SOUNDS SO _GOOD_ OVER THE INTERCOM! HE SHOULD TOTALLY BE AN ANNOUNCER! OR A MODEL!"

Collective wince. "Well," B muttered, rubbing his hands together, "beating L won't get done on its own. Come on, L. We've got a job to compete in."

Nate stood there for another few moments still, shellshocked. He collected himself quickly and reined in his emotions, but still … for a moment he had been in imperfect control of his emotions.

What was Wammy's doing to all of them? And, more importantly, how much more drama, angst, and fluffy fun could be executed before the characters broke?

--

**Taken me forever to type this up, and I got pretty bored for a while in the middle. Live with it and add to my measly pile of two reviews … the future of Ryuk's apple supply depends on it. It's more fun that way (for me). Enjoy the post-Christmas fun!**

**-N**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, late, short, lazy, blah. Update for my sixth reviewer and all the others. **

**Disclaimer: Ryuk: "Lazy. First you don't update for nearly a month, and now you can't even be bothered to do the disclaimer?"**

**N: "It's rude to type over someone on the computer, Ryuk, and I am now kindly correcting your grammatical errors."**

**Ryuk: "Whatever. You see, the problem with your system is the whole apple thing. If you don't write, you don't get reviews, and I don't get apples. See?"**

**N (glaring): "The chart on that chalkboard you stole was entirely unnecessary, Ryuk. I will attend to your punishment later. As Raito said in one of the fanfics I've read, someone's got to be the first to find out how to castrate a shinigami …"**

**Ryuk: "Like it's gonna do anything. Shinigami can't have sex, remember? And we can turn intangible at will and don't sleep. How could you possibly do it?"**

**N (evil grin): "Apples are a lovely distraction, Ryuk. Now say the disclaimer."**

**Ryuk (gulp): "Death Note doesn't belong to N, and I'm glad, because if it did I probably would have received a degree of punishment …"**

--

Mihael hadn't been looking forward to his job in stock, but now he hurried into the towering shelves in shadow as if they could help him escape the rush of feelings that felt like they were tearing the inside of his perfectly tanned and taut skin inside out. The week had been torture. First missing all of the parties – even though most of them were lame anyway – for his stupid orientation with that stick-up-his-ass assistant manager Yagami, though at least he'd had Mail to snicker to, and now having to kiss some little albino puffball and having the whole school find out about it? The kid was probably in grade school and when Mail's video made it to YouTube he'd be arrested for being a pedophile!

Worse was the fact that he'd liked it.

Mihael shuddered, pushing the thought back out of his mind and _firmly _back somewhere between the time in elementary school kids had beaten him up and stolen his chocolate and the one Halloween when Mail was Mario and he'd somehow convinced him to dress up as Princess Peach. He'd have enough trouble with the kids at school as it is, convincing them he wasn't gay despite all obvious signs to the contrary, without entertaining such thoughts himself.

"_Just admit it, pretty boy," _the little Mail voice in his head chirped. _"You know it's true. You blush every time you remember that one time we kissed at that party in the sixth grade."_

"_I told you never to mention that!" _Mihael raged back at one of the voices in his head. He would have beaten it or at the very least thrown something, but a head as beautiful as his was not meant for a concussion. It was with considerable relief that he found the B Stock Section.

Or on second thought, he reasoned as he stared rather unnervedly at the dark-haired, suited and proudly smocked man that was looking over him, he wasn't so sure.

"You must be one of the new employees," the man, who must be the Mikami Yagami had mentioned, said stiffly as he stuck out a hand, managing to look both disturbing and efficient as he did so. "My name is Mikami"—_no shit, dude, _MIhael couldn't help but think—"and I will be your manager for at the very least this week. We will be working in Lower Stock Inventory."

"Jesus Christ," Mihael muttered, groaning a bit. He'd never been one to hold his emotions in or particularly care about making a good impression on adults, and he was already wearing a retardate smock. "So what the hell are we supposed to actually do, anyway?"

"It's against the rules to curse, trainee," this Mikami said, not like he didn't know or would actually give a crap. "I see Raito-sama, as always, is a divine judge of character. You will receive no liberties from me. Come."

Mihael resisted asking the guy what the freak was he on and was it some sort of aphrodisiac of the same kind he used when he sat down naked by candlelight on a black rug and jacked himself off to Raito's picture, but figured this guy was so crazy he might even answer in the affirmative, and this one time Mihael decidedly did _not _want to know. He followed him into the dark, shadowy underbelly of the towering shelves of the B Stock Section. Mihael, never one to remain silent for long, felt apprehensive enough to risk a question, "So what exactly do we, um, _do_ in here?" Mail would have interpreted the emphasis on "do" so wrongly, and Mihael winced at the momentary thought that Mikami would do the same. After all, it was dark and they were all alone, even if he was so obviously a Yagami worshipper …

"Oh," Mikami said, cracking a smile for the first time that Mihael had seen and looking as unnatural as that one Sakura TV guy Demegawa being a judge who got payed a billion bucks for every criminal found guilty, "I'll be cataloging the boxes."

Mihael risked a glance at the towering stacks of gigantic, squat boxes that lined the Wammy's shelves, looking decidedly heavy and ominous. "And me?" he managed.

"You'll be taking them down so I can count them and putting them back again."

The resultant cursing extended in volume throughout the entire rest of the two-level store, and continued to hang there like a black cloud in the air for several minutes after. Mihael became the first one to receive seventy lectures and a dislocated shoulder in one day. Mikami spared no particular consideration as he popped it back in and told Mihael that the next time he dropped a box he would get his pay docked by fifty percent, which would leave him with approximately three cents since he had already suffered seven others and it was only the first day of what he was sure would be a very long week.

--

L was not very happy with the arrangements, to say the least. He and B had managed to baffle and deeply disturb the trainer already and had as such gotten through the basic instructions fifty-five minutes early, leaving them with a lot of what B called "time to compete." They were currently at opposite ends of the aisle, each with a cart of modified stock. The shelves were mostly empty from yesterday's boisterous business.

"Begin," B called, turning to his cart and grabbing the first item missing on his side of the shelf, which happened to be complimentary Christmas snowglobes. "I will defeat you, L!"

Five minutes later …

"AUGH! CURSE YOUR AMBIDEXTROUS FEET, L!"

Apparently there was a lot of shouting going on that day.

--

"Misa Misa loves her Raito! She wishes he would stop working in this boring department store and become her manager so they could be together ALL the time!" Misa trilled, hanging off Raito's arm as he attempted to do some actual work in the inventory organization.

"I've told you that I'm trying to save enough money for college, Misa," Raito said with what some people (mostly Mikami) would consider saintlike patience. "And my parents would never let me."

"But Raito only has one year before he's an adult! Then him and Misa Misa can go travel the world!" Raito, whose main obligation as assistant manager was to cater to Misa Misa, sighed.

"I want to go to college, Misa. Maybe after." He could have shot himself in the foot for saying that.

"But Misa Misa needs her Raito NOW, not when she's OLD! Why can't Raito go to college later? He's too smart for it anyway!"

"But Misa, everyone's expecting me to …"

And so it continued for oh, say, the next three-and-a-half freaking hours. Raito was not feeling particularly inclined towards the trainees when he went to make his first check.

--

Nate waited anxiously by the door, trying to not make contact with either the old scratchy-lunged woman who'd been working here as a greeter ever since she'd dropped out of eighth grade or the smiling yes-man that had given him the orientation, stuck a holly button on his smock, given him a sticker of a purple smiley and practically begged him to ask some questions so he'd have something to alleviate the boredom and discomfort of his life.

He knew his lines by heart, though they were not nearly as riveting as the lines of Optimus Prime's he had memorized in the third grade. "Hello, welcome to Wammy's. We hope you have an enchanting experience and find whatever you're looking for." Seriously, if he'd said that to anyone at school he would have been beaten up for the enchanting alone. Why had he let his parents convince him to take this job at his Grandfather Wammy's store?

Whyever it was, Mother and Father would hear from him when he got home. He was expecting a very good toy for this. And no, it would _not _be coming from his abysmally meager paycheck.

--

A glared out from behind his extensive eyeliner, most decidedly _un_happy with this lousy chick Brianna who thought he actually didn't know how to use a cash register or say "That'll be 5.59, do you have a Wammy's card?" If he wanted to admit the truth he couldn't, but that hardly mattered. He was the genius A. He'd figure it out.

Brianna smacked him on the side of his head in annoyance, looking disgusted when a smear of white came off. "Figures out of all the cute stockboys, I get the freak. Were you even listening when I told you how to deal with coupons?"

_God, _A prayed, _please let me never get roped into any of B's crazy L-beating schemes again …_

_And don't let him leave me. I'd die if he did. _

--

**Review review review. More shonen-ai next time, for those of you interested. This was mainly a filler chapter. **


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